


when we all fall asleep where do we go

by steverogerstrash (theyvegotthisspellonme)



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:27:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyvegotthisspellonme/pseuds/steverogerstrash
Summary: But he can’t stop thinking about the blond man. The man from the helicarrier that had called him a name, had told him that he wouldn’t fight.the winter soldier tries to convince himself that they're just dreams. james barnes isn't so sure.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26
Collections: Marvel Undercover 2020





	when we all fall asleep where do we go

**Author's Note:**

> title from Billie Eilish's Bury a Friend, which was the prompt for this fic. enjoy!

The Winter Soldier stares, horrified, at the man he just pulled out of the river. The words he’d said, the names he’d used, are echoing in the Asset’s head. 

_ Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. I’m not going to fight you.  _

The Asset doesn’t know what’s happening. That’s normal, he’s never known the whys of his missions, the sins of the people he’s killed, or their stories, and that’s never mattered. But here and now, watching this man gasp in a breath on the shores of the Potomac, it does. The Asset  _ wants _ . What he wants, he isn’t sure yet. But there’s something stirring in the back of his head; something that seems almost familiar. 

\--

_ Mission imperative: clear head _ . The Asset is goal-oriented, if nothing else. He has to find a safe place. Somewhere without handlers. Somewhere he can think. 

His first step, he figures, has to be leaving DC. HYDRA is too concentrated here, agents too close together. Too many people, period. The Asset is finding that he doesn’t enjoy crowds. Or people, really, in general. 

But he can’t stop thinking about the blond man. The man from the helicarrier that had called him a name, had told him that he wouldn’t fight. 

The first stop he makes is the museum. 

Everything he finds there is overwhelming, to say the least. His own face, plastered across glass displays. People he thinks he almost recognizes telling stories about a war that isn’t anywhere in his memory. Hearing the overhead voice speak about how Bucky Barnes was the only member of the Howling Commandos to give his life during the war. The Asset shakes his head, trying to clear it, then pulls his baseball cap lower over his face as he leaves. 

\-- 

He isn’t really sure what draws him back to eastern Europe, but he knows that leaving the United States was a good idea. He doesn’t know if the Widow exposing HYDRA will expose him too, but he doesn’t want to stick around and find out. 

The first safe house he stays in is standard, bland in a way that never bothered him before. Now, something about the sterile, plain walls and beige, drab furniture is getting to him. He isn’t sure if it’s something that he just didn’t notice before, or if they had trained it out of him. He also doesn’t know if those are two different things. 

There are memories, now, in the back of his head. Nothing that explains the man on the bridge or his behavior, but other things. Things that are less pressing, but not necessarily less painful. Flashes of faces, people whose names he used to know. People that were important to him, he thinks. An older woman with dark hair carefully pinned back, pressing her lips together in an attempt to hold back a smile. A little girl with the same grey eyes that stare back at him every time he looks in a mirror. A man coming through the front door and spinning the older woman around before pulling her in for a kiss. The face that comes up the most, though, is a small blond boy, bony shoulders visible through his threadbare shirt. Skinny fingers covered in dust, a sketchpad set gently on a short table. 

He wakes up one night sweating, breathing heavily. He’s not sure what woke him up, but part of him is glad for it. Something tells him that he’s dreamed about that train before. Or lived it, maybe. Something about the wind, the snow, the blast that sent him flying… it all seemed too real. 

He falls back into an easy sleep just as the sky outside starts to turn grey. He dreams of the blond man, reaching towards him, calling his name.

\-- 

James moves out of that safe house two days after deciding that James is, in fact, his name. It’s what the people in his dreams call him, except for the blond man. That’s what it said in the museum, too, what little he saw of it before his brain couldn’t handle any more. So he’s James now, because he might have always been. 

Some people fade in and out of his dreams, those he thought might be his family coming and going. The blond man, however, appears almost every night. James recognizes him now as the bony artist in some of his dreams with his family, and in the ones about the war he doesn’t remember. He was there on the train, eyes wild and desperate. 

_ “Hang on! Grab my hand!” His voice matches the look on his face, desperate, hoping against everything. He reaches out, gloved hand almost in reach. James shifts his weight, preparing to reach back. The bar creaks, then snaps off. James is falling, falling… _

“Steve!” The name leaves his mouth before he’s even awake. Steve… his best friend. His only friend, really. 

“The end of the line…” James murmurs, running a hand over his face. He understands now, why Steve refused to fight him. He thinks that, if the situation was reversed, he’d do the same thing. 

\--

It’s not much of a surprise when Captain America shows up in his apartment in Bucharest. 

“Do you know me?” He asks. James can tell he’s trying not to get his hopes up, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. He thinks that, if he didn’t know so much about Steve, it would work. 

“You’re Steve.” What he can see of Steve’s face relaxes. 

“We need to get out of here. They’re coming for you, and they don’t plan on taking you alive.” 

James nods. He can hear the voice over Steve’s comm unit. 

“Let me just get my things.” It comes out as more of a joke than James really intended, but Steve grins like that’s the funniest thing he’s heard in years. 

James pulls his glove off, revealing the silver fingers underneath. The floorboards hiding his go bag don’t stand a chance. He slings the backpack over his shoulder, then looks back at Steve.

“Ready when you are, Captain.”

“Then let’s go.” 


End file.
